Up until I moved to New York City three months ago, I spent the better part of the last decade developing into a serial sartorial spender. For every dollar I saved, four went toward the Akris sheath fund and another three to the Jonathan Kelsey platform pump foundation. Dresses that bridged the work-to-drinks divide were my primary vice, but really, soup to nuts, I loved it all.

This spendy lifestyle, though fulfilling from a fashion lover's perspective, wasn't without serious consequence and sacrifice. Dinners out, taxis, even basic grocery shopping went from occasional to rare to never. And then there was the interminable guilt when, at 27 and doing quite well in my defense contractor career, my parents couldn't understand why the idea of buying my first piece of real estate was "for the foreseeable future, highly unrealistic". For some reason, no matter how responsible and rational I had been in other parts of my life, my relationship with money was dictated solely by whatever asymmetric, structured necessity sat atop my must-have queue.

At my own insistence, I watched those shopaholic episodes of True Life and Intervention expecting to be shocked into money saving submission, but frankly, I found it impossible to find any kind of revelation in the tribulations of girl whose Rent-a-Center furniture was repossessed because she couldn't stop buying wigs and Ed Hardy trucker hats. My drug of choice was the "new arrivals" section on lagarconne.com, after all, not acrylic hair and mall-wear. At the time, it just seemed so completely, entirely different.

Thankfully, reality TV intervened shortly thereafter in a much more direct way and cast me out of one life and into another, in which fashion was now my professional focus, not just my after-hours infatuation. It's not that I love or appreciate fashion any less now, quite the opposite, but between always being busy and finally feeling content where I am and with what I'm doing, that nagging feeling I used to get to need to make a statement by owning this dress or that coat has disappeared. I never would've predicted the move to Manhattan (and to ELLE, of all places!) would incite such a dramatic shift in my financial priorities, but three straight months of living a clothing/accessory purchase-free lifestyle –and a perfectly content one, at that– speaks volumes to its effectiveness.

I dedicate this post to my ever patient Mom and Dad, whose daily reminders to stop taking so many taxis will sink in once Spring arrives. Baby steps.